


Wicked Grace

by bioticbootyshaker



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Gen, Humor, Wicked Grace, safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-17
Updated: 2012-11-17
Packaged: 2017-11-18 21:12:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/565355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioticbootyshaker/pseuds/bioticbootyshaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris tries to teach Anders how to play the game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wicked Grace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cypheroftyr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cypheroftyr/gifts).



> **Title:** Wicked Grace  
>  **Word Count:** 614  
>  **Rating:** G  
>  **Warnings:** None  
>  **Fandom:** Dragon Age  
>  **Pairing:** Fenders  
>  **Disclaimer:** Dragon Age (c) Bioware  & EA
> 
> Requested by [cypheroftyr](cypheroftyr.tumblr.com) :)

He’d never had a knack for the game. Then again, there hadn’t been much time to practice when he was with the Wardens, and before, when he was in the Circle, the templars had frowned on card games. Anders didn’t know the reasoning behind that -- but like most reasons the Templars gave, he was sure it had something to do with demonic possession or falling prey to blood magic. Just imagine if a young apprentice lost at a game of cards! Why, the whole of Thedas would’ve been subject to his fury!

Fenris was a good teacher, if not a bit brusque. The best education had always come from experience, and so he showed Anders the ropes as he beat him, hand after hand, smiling a little smugly when Anders swore and raked his fingers through his hair. 

“You look tense,” Fenris murmured. He shuffled the cards and raised an eyebrow at the mage. “Are you so unfamiliar with losing? It seems to be something you’re quite skilled at, from my perspective.”

“Shut up and deal the cards,” Anders snapped.

The elf laughed, one of his dry, smug little chuckles, but he dealt the cards, quirking another eyebrow when Anders only sat there.

“Trouble, mage?”

“I want to raise the stakes,” Anders said. He met Fenris’ eyes, and a smile of his own curled his lips. Fenris never trusted his smile, or the gleam of his eyes, or the way both made his stomach tight and hot and roiling with desire. He supposed he was as much an animal as Anders was, base and hungry. Fenris also supposed he didn’t care much. 

“Raise the stakes,” Fenris said, “Well, seeing as you’ve now lost to me twenty-four times in a row, I imagine I’d be comfortable with that.”

“If I win,” Anders whispered, “You’ll do anything I want.”

“Oh, that sounds reasonable,” Fenris said, “Why would I agree to this?”

“Because if you win, I’ll do anything you want,” Anders said.

“Well, that is intriguing,” Fenris murmured, “There are no parameters here?”

“Naturally,” Anders said, “Nothing that is entirely out of bounds. Nothing that... the other feels uncomfortable consenting to.”

Fenris’ ears perked. “Consenting to,” he whispered, “I take it we are not talking about cleaning the other’s dishes or buying their groceries for the week.”

“No,” Anders said. He held Fenris’ eyes, refused to back down, refused to let the elf have the satisfaction of trouncing him at _everything_.

Fenris leaned back, that smile never leaving the corner of his mouth. “All right,” he said, “That sounds fair.”

His smile fled a few minutes later when Anders won.

“You cheated,” Fenris said.

“I don’t cheat,” Anders said, “What I am good at, though, is _learning_. You’re a very skilled teacher, Fenris.”

“And what do you want?” Fenris asked. He sounded timid, uncertain, not sure if Anders would ask for something depraved or a simple task.

Anders reached under his robes. Oh, that was not what Fenris wanted. Or perhaps it was. His heart was beating hard and fast, his stomach warm, his groin warmer. He licked his lips and waited for Anders to tell him what he wanted, or what he needed, or what he ached for, since the mage seemed so fond of the phrase. 

“I want you to read this,” Anders said, sliding a bundle of vellum over the table.

“Is that----”

“My manifesto,” Anders said.

Fenris groaned.

He wasn’t disappointed, he told himself, as he unwrapped the scrolls and started reading the lines he was able. Fenris kept telling himself as Anders stood from the table, left a kiss on his forehead, and left him.

No, not disappointed at all.


End file.
